Harry Potter and the Death Note
by TakatoRikku
Summary: Harry finds a little black book... Oneshot, slightly dark Harry, crossover with Death Note mangaanime


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Death Note, or the folks who made them.

**Harry Potter and the Death Note**

Harry walked around the grounds of Hogwarts in a daze. It was the end of the term for school, and the students would be leaving with a heavy heart. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore (though he had way more names in his title) had been murdered, the wizarding world was in disarray and worst of all, Harry's two most hated enemies were the cause of it, and were on the loose, no doubt returning gleefully to their master.

His eyes narrowed as he kicked an offending rock out of the way, watching it skitter down the pathway that was under Gryffindor Tower. If there were anyone he loathed more than Snape, it could only be Voldemort. How he wished he could find those Horcruxes and end that pathetic creature's life, and the lives of his slaves as well. A faint rustling of paper caught his attention.

There, directly in the middle of the path lay a black notebook. Curiously, Harry walked towards it and looked around, seeing if a student had perhaps dropped it. There was no one around, they were all still at Dumbledore's funeral gathering. Harry had opted to skip the somewhat morbid after-party in lieu of some alone time. And especially away from Ginny, who seemed to anger him for some reason. He knealt down and picked up the notebook.

The cover was pure black, and some spindly words spelled out the words _Death Note_ on it. Harry snorted. There had to be some emo student here, probably one of the Slytherins. Flipping the cover open, Harry saw what appeared to be instructions on the back of the cover.

_The human whose name is written in this note shall die. _

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. _

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack. _

_After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds. _

_When the same name is written on more than one Death Note, the Note which was first filled in will take effect, regardless of the time of death._

Harry chuckled, flipping through the notebook's pages, finding them all blank. Whoever thought this up was quite crafty, not unlike a Slytherin. Too bad it wasn't real.

Harry paused. Then again, the magical world _had_ proved many things real to him. And what if this so-called Death Note was cursed?!

He quickly dropped it to the ground and took a few steps back. It just sat there innocently. "It could be a trick," Harry said to himself. But still, it lay there. He slowly crept forward and picked the notebook up again.

"Then again... If it _is_ real," he murmured to himself. His emerald eyes took on a certain glint.

"Harry, where are you mate?"

He whirled around, seeing Ron and Hermione's forms off in the distance. They were walking towards him. With a quick thought, Harry shoved the notebook down his trousers slightly and covered it with his shirt. He gave a halfhearted wave and smile to his friends as they met up with him.

-----

Harry scowled. Just because it was his last time ever spending the summer at the Dursleys, his Uncle Vernon thought it was perfectly okay for him to act like a belligerant buffoon. The young wizard was currently padlocked, barred and stockaded inside Dudley's soon-to-be-reclaimed second bedroom, with naught but his locked school trunk and Hedwig. Said owl hooted dolefully.

Harry got up and stroked his beloved companion's plumage. "Don't worry girl, we'll be out of here soon," he said reassuringly. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out the Death Note, which he had hidden inside since the funeral. Harry didn't want it to get into the wrong hands. He flipped it open once again and raked his eyes over the many, many blank pages. Though it looked thin, the Death Note had exactly 333 pages. Which, if Harry thought about it, came to be a total of 666 pages double-sided. It was fitting for something with this so-called purpose.

He had debated the origins of the Death Note, first thinking that it was created by an evil wizard, but he quickly dismissed that idea because he simply couldn't think of any magic that could do something like this. There were the Chinese paper curses, which killed one if they recieved a letter with a symbol on it, but the end result was that the victim had to be in possession of it. This Death Note didn't work that way. Harry then came to the conclusion that a Higher Being had created this book, and for some reason, wanted him to find it. Perhaps the Grim Reaper had given up on the heftiness of his scythe, and chose a more simple, business-like method of dispatching his souls? Who knew?

One thing for sure was, this Death Note was an extremely powerful, yet extremely dangerous artifact. If it was the real deal. Taking a quill in hand, Harry's hand quivered as he held it over the first blank page in the notebook.

_Should I?_ he wondered to himself. _Do I really have the right to literally blot out someone's life?_

"BOY! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT KEEPING THOSE FREAKISH, RUDDY OWLS AWAY FROM MY HOME?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from outside his door.

Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation. His thoughts had been interrupted. "It's not like I can tell people what to do or not to do Uncle!" he called back through the door sarcastically. "I'm not _that_ freakish you know!"

"Why you little-!" Vernon shouted, and Harry heard the jingling of keys, the rattles of socket wrenches and the telltale noise of paper unfolding as his uncle got to work on Harry's prison door. Harry knew that the big fat oaf had just under 3 minutes to get inside, and probably beat him silly. Harry glanced at his padlocked trunk desperately, but he couldn't open it and get to his wand. He was defenseless.

"I'll do that freak madman of yours a bloody effing favor!"

Unless...

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack. _

_After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds. _

Eyes wide, Harry watched as his right hand seemingly moved on its own accord, and began to write elegantly arched letters as if in slow motion.

_V e r n o n D u r s l e y_

Expelling a huge breath, Harry fell back onto his bed as he looked at what he had done. If this Death Note was _real_ then his uncle would die in 40 seconds. His heart raced. What if he were blamed?! Minister Scrimgeour would certainly love to pin something on him ever since he had refused to support the Ministry. He had to think quickly.

_Cause of death: massive heart attack from high blood pressure and stress due to overeating and lack of exercise._

Harry knew that if he didn't write anything down after 40 seconds, then his uncle would die of a heart attack anyways, but writing down specific details for the cause would be helpful to the muggle and magical authorities. Harry figured that his uncle didn't exercise and knew for a fact that he overate. It was perfect.

-----

The door slammed open and Harry was greeted with the purple, raged inflicted face of his uncle, who looked wild and quite insane. "I've got you now!" he growled. He made towards his nephew, who tried to edge away from him in fear. It was then that Vernon Dursley heard the freak muttering to himself.

"8... 7... 6..."

"What the blazes are you counting fo-eurk!" Vernon grunted as his chest tightened painfully. "I - ahhh - what?"

"_One._"

He grabbed his chest and his left arm started to jerk as Vernon dropped to the ground in pure agony. "Boy!" he gasped through the convulsions. "You!"

Then the last thing Vernon Dursley ever saw was the sight of his nephew, looking down his nose at him while holding a black book. _Freak..._

-----

_"Medical reports show that Vernon Dursley died of massive heart failure, no doubt due to his extremely high blood pressure, along with the fact that he was overweight and unhealthy. The proper authorities have ruled this incident as a bizzare coincidence, since they had found Dursley's nephew huddled inside a tiny little room, which had been completely locked away from human contact, as if he were some sort of animal. The police are currently investigating Petunia and Dudley Dursley, family of the deceased about their treatment of Harry James Potter, which reports say that they claim him to be a homicidal killer. Public and government records show that Mr. Potter is in fact, not, and instead attends a very prestigious boarding school in the North. Social Services are currently doing all they can to help this traumatized young man, but only time will tell."_

-----

"Erase."

Harry finished the signature with a flourish, ending the _y_ with a long tail. He smiled somewhat darkly as he read the latest victim's name out loud.

"_Draco Malfoy."_

Above his old rival's name were close to a dozen others. They were all Death Eaters, or supporters of Voldemort. Bellatrix Lestrange was at the top of the list, followed by Serverus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback (his cause of death was to fall over a container full of silver knives), Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew (who choked himself to death with his own silver hand), Walden Macnair (who threw himself upon his great axe) and Agustus Rookwood. Many of the other Death Eaters, he knew only their last names. Damn the English and their constant usage of last names, he supposed.

It didn't take long for the wizarding world to figure out that someone was making the Death Eaters off themselves. It was thought to be suicide at first (after all, who dared to invoke Voldemort's wrath upon themselves constantly?) but soon they began to realise that these strange deaths were in fact, not suicidal. Still, Harry wasn't found out yet. He was currently staying at Grimmauld Place with the Order, and it had been far past his 17th birthday, as it was the first week of August. Most of the times, he would lock himself in Sirius' old room and continue his 'judgings' with the Death Note, but sometimes he would spend time with Ron and Hermione, the new Golden Couple as they tried to figure out where Voldemort's horcruxes were. Harry had tried to write Tom Marvolo Riddle in the Death Note, with cause of death being a public suicide in Daigon Alley, but it didn't work. Apparently he needed to destroy the horcruxes first. Then again...

Harry's smile turned wicked. He clicked his ballpoint pen (worked much better and cleaner than a quill) and began to write:

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Cause of death: Will summon every Death Eater and servant in front of him and will kill them all. He will recover all remaining pieces of his soul and will then destroy them. Will then appear at Hogwarts in front of - _here Harry almost wrote his name, but wisely decided not to _- his arch enemy on August 6th, 1997 at prescisely noon hour in front of witnesses. He will then have a heart attack._

With a satisfied nod of approval, Harry shut the Death Note. Tomorrow would be a big day.

-----

"So tell me _why_ exactly are we all at Hogwarts?" Hermione questioned her best friend again. Ron nodded in agreement as he clutched the hand of his girlfriend of 5 weeks. "Is there a you-know-what here?"

"And a _you-know-what_ would be _what_ exactly, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked with a stern look.

"Nothing," Hermione said with a disgustingly innocent smile. The new headmistress merely sighed.

"Potter, have you got a good reason for assembling nearly _everyone _in the wizarding world on the Quiddich Pitch?" she asked briskly. Harry nodded with a secretive smile.

"You'll know about it in a minute," he answered vaguely, glancing at his watch.

Not more than exactly a minute later, the sign of a portkey arriving caught everyone's attention. The minister himself nearly passed out when Voldemort appeared in front of the crowd. Many women and some of the not-so-manly men screamed in terror.

"POTTER!" Voldemort screamed in fury. "What have you done to my Death Eaters? What have you done to ME?!"

He was positively foaming at the mouth. "My precious horcruxes! Destroyed!" he cried in fury. "By my own hand nonetheless! What magic is this?!"

Harry stepped forward, shrugging off Hermione's hand as she worriedly tried to pull him back. "I suspect this is the power the Dark lord knows not," he said with an amused grin, the Death Note tucked safely in his messenger bag. "Bit frightening, isn't it?"

Voldemort glared at Harry with absolute hatred. "You!" he bit out. "You - I will not be defeated by the likes of you! I will kill you here and now, you pathetic boy!"

The Dark Lord whipped out his wand and pointed at Harry, who looked nonplussed despite the gasps of terror behind him.

"Avada Ked - uuugghhh!"

Voldemort dropped his wand as he clutched at his own chest in pain. "What - my heart!" he gasped before collasping face-first onto the grass of the pitch. His eyes rolled up to see Harry crouching next to his prone body.

"The Light will always prevail over the Dark," Harry whispered to the murderer of his parents. "You can't beat me Tom. I am justice."

Tom Riddle's eyes registered absolute horror as the light died from those crimson orbs. The very last thought he had was, _You are more of a monster than I, Harry James Potter, _and the very last thing he saw was his enemy standing before him, with a dark figure floating behind him. _Monster..._

-----

"Harry, we're going to be late for the ball!"

Harry looked up from his table in the library, where he was working on his NEWT level essay for Charms. He smiled. "Coming Daphne," he answered. "Just got one more line to finish!"

Hogwarts had been reopened the following term, considering that there was no threat any more. Harry had been welcomed back as Head Boy, and Hermione made Head Girl of course. Ron was just happy to be a Prefect again. Though she tried many times, Ginny could never get Harry to date her again, to her dismay. Harry had suspected foul play in his feelings for the girl, and stayed wary of her. Some time later Fred and George came to visit him and told the black haired wizard that they had found out that Ginny had stolen some Amortentia from their shop, and had most likely used it on him. Harry never ventured near the Weasley girl again.

He instead found himself in a cozy relationship with a Slytherin, of all people. Daphne Greengrass wasn't exceptionally gorgeous, nor incredibly ugly, but she had the homely, girl-next-door look to her with a sharp tongue and bookish attitude. Their personalities matched perfectly and their relationship was as steady as a rock.

"Hurry up!" she cried, glomping him from behind as she laughed and nuzzled his ear. Harry closed his books.

"Alright, alright!" he said, holding his hands up in defeat. "Crikey woman, the ball isn't for another 3 hours!"

Hogwarts was hosting an international ball in celebration of the defeat of Voldemort. Harry was the guest of honor.

Daphne flicked his ear with her tongue, an action he liked very much. "I'll have you know that it'll take me every second of those three hours to look stunning for you tonight!"

Harry shrugged. "You could walk in dressed in nothing but a paper bag and you'll still be stunning to me," he said.

She glared at him and bit his earlobe. "Ahh! Damn you infernal succubus!" Harry cried. "I'll pack my things now!"

"Love you too!" she chirped with an innocent smile, and skipped away. Harry smiled warmly at her antics. She was Slytherin, yet so anti-Slytherin, if possible. He opened up his textbook again, revealing a smaller notebook inside with a half-filled page.

"Erase."

_End_


End file.
